Redemption
by Noah Hunter
Summary: Dante had never been one to be religious, but with nothing else to do, the devil hunter finds himself in an old dilapidated church on the edge of town...


-1(This is probably one of the deepest fan-fics I have ever written. I can't count the times that I have sat thinking about all this religious stuff and whether or not there is hope for someone like me. And being a Devil May Cry fan, I can't help but wonder how Dante must feel, living such a life as his. So, here is my very first real DMC fan-fic. Sorry if the ending is a bit cheesy. I just tried to touch on the fact that no one is perfect and that Dante, well…I don't want to give the ending away. If you get the ending, awesome, if you don't, well,…oh well. I hope you enjoy.)

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Redemption

…They say that God is merciful…

A small weathered building stands on the edge of town. The red neon sign above the door flickers: **Devil May Cry**. It stands to ward off the dark and what awaits within it. This worn down sanctuary with its neon sign flickering feebly in the chill night air is all there is left of humanity.

A wisp of red cloth, a turn of silver hair, Dante, the man that lived in such a building as **Devil May Cry**, strode out of his sanctuary and down the stone streets of the town. He had had no missions he needed to complete for the godforsaken people who wandered into his office and he could find no reason that he should try ordering a pizza, at 2 in the morning, and try to wait it out for a desperate call or some dramatic walk in. No. He refused. He refused to sit back lazily in his chair, his feet propped up on his desktop, fighting off sleep that he knew he would probably never get.

Down the streets he walked, listening to the heavy clunking noises his boots made against the cobblestones. The air brushed past his face with a chill that would have sent shivers down one's spine, but Dante paid no mind. He was too distracted by the unusual calm of the town and the constant pounding of his black leather boots.

It wasn't long before Dante found himself at the other end of town. His gaze fell upon the chapel that stood here. The devil hunter took a deep breath. He was never one to be religious. Never had been. Well, maybe when he was a kid, and his mum would take him and his twin brother, Virgil, to church every Sunday afternoon. He remembered how he would try to get out of dressing in his Sunday attire and how his mother would chase after her dear "wild child" with his suit. Those were the good ol' days. The days when his mother was still alive. The days when his brother would be dressed and ready at their mother's command, like the good little boy he was, no one thinking twice about such a golden child becoming one of the world's greatest threats. But Dante was older and his life had changed. His mother was dead. His twin…murdered by his own hands. And here he was, like some lost and pitiful soul, standing outside the house of God. A sin all his own.

So, why was he going in?

Past the arched doorway, past a couple rows of wooden pews. Dante stopped a third of the way in and hesitantly took a seat amongst one of the many rows. As he sat, the pew creaked softly under his weight. He looked around. The church was old and dilapidated. More so than the sad structure that was **Devil May Cry**. What Dante suspected had once been white paint, was peeling off the walls and the rotting pews surrounding him. Dante was well aware that this church was no longer in use. It was too beyond repair. And the only things that kept this structure standing were the religious extremists who strutted around town, shouting their Psalms and their Versus, attempting to convert one of God's stray lambs that wandered up to them or the people who crossed to the other side of the street trying to avoid the extremists like the Black Plague. Dante had always thought this comical. He remembered how he used to be one of those desperate jaywalkers. But after he became a missionary, skilled in the art of hunting the supernatural, he no longer had to avoid anyone. Especially, the religious extremists.

Now, as he sat alone, Dante found that maybe there was more to religion than strutting around like a peacock, fanning your tail in people's faces for the sake of God Almighty. He sighed. Here he was, Dante, son of Sparda, nick-name Devil May Cry, a feared missionary and devil hunter, sitting in church wondering about religion and higher powers. Dante never thought about these things much. Why should he? His mother had been taken from him along with his twin brother. He had to face demons and devils on a day to day basis because of people's sob stories and him feeling sorry for them. He had nothing to call his own except for, what, a sword, two custom made handguns and a name that sent chills down people's spines. Yeah. What a saint he turned out to be.

Without really thinking about it, Dante folded his leather clad hands together and set them on the back of the pew in front of him. How cliché this must have looked. He could not count, on one hand, the movies he had seen and the books he had read that involved the hero of the story wandering into a church, sitting down on a pew, tightly folding their hands and praying to some god they could only have _faith_ existed. And now, Dante was that hero. That little boy, that struggling mother, that lost man, he now became those people in all those stories. Just one difference.

He didn't know how to pray.

Closing his eyes, the devil hunter tried to remember what those characters in the stories had done and said. He knew the basics, like how to fold your hands, and how to close your eyes--

"But how do you go about praying itself, damn it?" Dante muttered. He let his mind wander back to the religious extremists shouting in the streets. What had they been saying? That God hears our prayers if we pray with our hearts? Whatever the hell that meant. Again, he let his eyes fall shut. He would just have to learn on his feet, so to speak.

"Dear God." He began. He cringed as the sound of his own voice reverberated off the sullen walls of the church. He sounded so fake. Weren't you supposed to sound as though you were caught in an eternal ecstasy or something? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried again.

"Dear God." He cleared his throat and shifted again. Enough fooling around. "I have not the faintest idea of how this goes so bear with me." He coughed on some dust that flew into his throat, but continued none-the-less after his short fit. "I am Dante, son of Sparda. I am a devil hunter and a damn good one at that. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I'm here, in your house, in the first place. I wandered in because I had no work to do." He paused, thinking about all that he had just said. Then continued on more purposefully. "I've gone through a lot in my life." He explained. "It's been tough, but I got through it. I hear you are merciful and forgive the human race for our sins…what about me? I am not a demon, but I am not human either. My blood is tainted, my hands, for Chris' sakes, are stained with my brother's blood. But I am not evil and I am not a murderer. I live every day of my damned life to help others who have to suffer through what I do, to this day. I don't know if you'll listen to a guy like me, though, will ya. I've pretty much got a one way ticket to Hell, don't I." A laugh passed through the devil hunter's lips. A hollow laugh that was almost fearful.

"They say that you are merciful and that you forgive everyone who sins. …I just want to know if I count."

Out of the church, back up the cobblestone streets on the other side of town stands a small weathered building. The red neon sign above the door flickers: **Devil May Cry**. It stands to ward off the dark and what awaits within the shadows. This worn down sanctuary with its neon sign flickering feebly in the chill night air is all there is left of humanity. Inside, now asleep in his chair, feet propped up lazily on his desktop, a half eaten pizza to the side of him, is Dante. He is the son of Sparda, feared missionary, devil hunter extraordinaire…but most of all…

…only human…

FIN!


End file.
